Careless Errors

My mom recently dug out my elementary school report cards for me. 

A lot didn’t surprise me- I was described as “growing weary of numbers” by my first grade teacher, Mrs. Robinson.

My 4th grade Phys. Ed. teacher, Mr. Graney, made a note that I “appeared to need more activity.” While this was likely true, I vividly recall disagreeing with the “Needs Improvement” he gave me in Sportsmanship- I simply didn’t care enough about the games in gym class to struggle with Sportsmanship. I marched my 4th grade self down to his gym office, report card in hand, and politely requested that he change the grade. I remember he said, “Oh. I must have been thinking of another kid.”

That rang true. For most of elementary school (and beyond), I was probably a forgettable student. Not struggling enough to demand attention, not accomplished enough to win it. 

My report cards tell a story- it’s clear that I loved music (but not my cello), that I was drawn to words (reading them, writing them, AND using them to chat in class), and that I cared about being a good citizen. 

I also know that I wanted to be a good student. 

Reading my teachers’ tickmarks and comments, it’s obvious that I rushed through work that was hard for me. But it was surprising, and maybe a little sad, to see just how much was difficult for me in school. I remember things being hard- but I guess my elementary school brain didn’t understand that my teachers could see it, too. 

I was always aware that I thought they thought that I wasn’t trying. And looking back at my report cards, it’s no mystery why. 

Katy needs more effort and concentration.
Katy is often in a rush. 
Katy needs to work at concentrating more. 
Mistakes are careless ones. 
Katy needs to check her computations for careless errors. 
Katy needs to improve in proofreading. 
Katy is not giving effort in class.

Sigh. 

Did I rush through my work? Probably. Did my effort fluctuate? Likely. Was I “careless?”

Never. I always cared. I just didn’t always know how to demonstrate it. 

I started first grade knowing I was smart- but somehow, through my winding road of elementary school, I ended sixth believing I was not. And I cared, a lot, about that. 

I don't believe teachers ever truly grasp the weight of our words, the lasting impact of comments on a kid’s sense of self. We need to be direct, provide constructive feedback, and sometimes, we even have to say really hard things to light a fire under a kid’s butt. 

But maybe we should strike "careless"  from the word bank.  I’ve known a lot of kids over my 25 year career. Many of them, at certain times, can look an awful lot like they don’t care- but that’s rarely true. And if it is, there is always a really solid reason. 

Our job is to help students feel smart, strong, and safe enough to show how much they really care.